Of Roses and Devils
by sixdegreesofseperation
Summary: Being faced with a teenage Tom Riddle made Hermione develop two theories. She either really was in 1944, or she was currently in the seventh ring of hell. timetravelfic, Tom/Hermione AU from OotP.
1. in which there is hope

**Act I**

August 31st, 1997

**HERMIONE**

* * *

Hermione Granger had long forgotten the meaning of safety and freedom; those words now had a bitter taste in her own mind. However, she has grown accustomed to the loss and fatalities and as much as the request of her Headmaster startled her, she has known for a very long time that the Light side was losing the war as fast as they were losing their own lives.

Alas, Albus Dumbledore's words were alien to her. She understood the fatality of the war they had been fighting since her fourth year, but she could not, for the life of her, agree with the request from the man who had seemed to have lost his dear mind.

"But_—_but _Professor_—" She sputtered, aware of the man's growing impatience. They had been conversing about the dangers of time travel for over an hour now. Harry was also starting to grow irritated with her too. Ron—Ron would have been too. "I just don't understand the necessity of this plan. How could it possible change anything at all?"

"It is essential for Voldemort to be dead while the rest of the Horcruxes are hunted for. It would make the task not only safer, Ms. Granger, but also much quicker."

She squeezed her eyes and breathed a sigh of animosity. Her least valuable Gryffindor traits were beginning to get the best of her. How could Harry be sitting so silently next to her without an argument of his own? This plan was _preposterous_!

"But what would be the point of travelling back in time to the Halloween of 1981 to eliminate Voldemort if he would already have the killing curse rebound at him? And performing even the simple of spells and – and being _seen_ could be _fatal_. You had been the one to tell me that Professor! In my _third_ year. I had not forgotten. This plan is—" She stopped herself before she insulted the greatest Sorcerer currently walking this earth.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" He baited her. Although he appeared calm and cordial, the irritation has replaced the twinkle in his eye. Harry still stayed silent.

She could not understand the _point_ of this ridiculous task. She had always followed this cause blindly for years, but this – this would not just pass by her without a thought. Although she dubbed herself as highly and attentively logical, she was not completely useless at analysing details, and there was something _very_ wrong about these plans. To think Dumbledore would ever even suggest something as ridiculous and dangerous as time travel to 1980's was already a surprise in itself but _knowing_ he was actually _requesting_ this of them – well – it almost made her fall into hysterical laughter.

"For one, Harry's parents would be alive. He would have grown up with a _family_, Ms. Granger. How could you deny him of that with you, yourself being familiar with the pain of being an orphan?"

Time seemed to have stayed still as her jaw dropped. She had to forcefully shut the door on her magic to avoid having it crackle threateningly around her. Harry seemed to have finally come to his senses because he sat up and his hand was laid over hears in a second. Comfort and stability.

Dumbledore sighed and looked down, as if ashamed. "My sincerest apologies. I should not have said something so hurtful."

She gritted her teeth as she spoke. "No, you should not have." She had lost her patience.

"I promise; this is the last time I will _ever_ be making such a request of you two, my students. I swear on my wand. But you must trust me – and I know that you don't, Ms. Granger – as this is the only solution to end this war."

* * *

"I cannot believe that you actually agreed to this, Harry! What do you think Ron will _do_ when he finds out that we left without him to – to travel _back in time_?"

"Ron is in a coma. The sooner you accept this, the better for everyone involved." Her best friend had finally snapped at her and he himself looked as irritated as Dumbledore was with her. And this – to think her friend thought so little of her – it made _her_ feel small. Invisible.

"I _have_ accepted it Harry." She whispered and sighed as the door of the Room of Requirement finally appeared before them. They entered to see the crazy Professor waiting for them. He had shrunken bags in his hands, though Hermione wondered what possibly he could have in there. Along with the bags, two letters were also in his hands.

Hermione's suspicion had not left her mind. She did not _trust_ this man, and for some ridiculous reason, Harry had. And she trusted Harry with her life.

Hermione and Harry shared a look upon seeing the luggage and although Dumbledore saw, he did not say anything to ease their nerves.

"Without any further issues, I hope you wonderful students succeed in your task. I wish you the best of luck." Dumbledore said. He handed the two bags and a letter to Hermione. "Open this letter after you arrive." He then handed another letter to Harry. "And after you read the letter, find me and hand me this one, Harry. It is very important that you do."

Harry nodded like the loyal soldier that he was. Hermione cupped the shrunk bags and the other letter in her other hand and grabbed Harry's hand with her free one.

"It is important that you do _not_ let go of each other as you travel back. You may lose yourself, and if you do, you may not arrive in the same time. Do you understand this?"

They both nodded as Dumbledore's wand lifted higher and pointed at Hermione's filled hand. His eyes shut momentarily as if he was gathering the entirety of this magical ability. He spoke in an ancient tongue when his mouth opened. "_Futuri mutat_!"

Then, darkness hit the two best friends like a bludger to the head.

* * *

With sore limbs and nausea rising like bile in the back of her throat, Hermione opened her eyes. The world spun for a few minutes as she tried to blink away the continuous dizziness, but to no avail. She heard Harry groan from beside her and released a grateful, shaky breath when she realized their hands were still joined and that they were not separated by the spell.

"He's a _lunatic_, Harry." She mumbled. Harry only squeezed his hand in response and although the action calmed her physically, it did not calm her mind.

_Why_ where they given luggage? Why where they even given a letter to read _after_ they arrived? It did not match the plan they discussed whatsoever. Hermione_ knew_ that Dumbledore's behaviour was bizarre a very long time ago but she could not comprehend why on earth they went against everything she had been told from the moment her trustful but young fingers touched the time turner in her third year.

This plan had gone against _everything_ she had ever been taught about time travel. She had read of other methods, of course, but nothing about travelling over 16 years back in time to end a man – a _monster_ who would be destroyed for the time being _either way_.

Dumbledore was sketchy, and Hermione knew that the answers to his crazy behaviour would be in the letter they were requested to read after their arrival.

She pulled Harry up by the back of his shoulders and saw his ruined glasses. He sighed and pulled out his wand, his mouth in a tight line. She looked him over – the scruffy jaw, the tired eyes, the messy hair and the rough hands. War had changed him. War had _aged_ him. War had ruined him – all of them.

They sat quietly as Hermione unrolled the scroll and fell upon a couple of paragraphs. She decided to read it out loud as Harry just simply looked _tired_. He looked too exhausted with his own life to care.

"My dear wonderful, brave and sublime time travellers," Hermione began, a sinking feeling starting in her throat and ending in the pit of her stomach. Though Harry didn't comment, she knew he was listening. "Before you leave the room of requirement in the search of my younger self, I first must inform you of the severe information I had left out of our previous conversation. You had not been transported to 1981, but to the 31st of August of the year 1944 –" She cut off and she swore, in that singular moment where no noise nor no breathe entered her throat – her heart stopped.

Harry suddenly became more alert as he pushed his glasses up his nose. Words must have been stuck in his throat as he looked at the quickly panicking Hermione. Her fingers were shaking so heavily; he could not make out a word on the page.

"Merlin." He finally stated as Hermione recovered, her eyes searching the room as if analysing the situation.

"I – I _told_ you, Harry! And you didn't listen. You never listen to me and this _always_ happens and now we're stuck in 1944 with no one that we know but each other and _Merlin_ – someone will find out and Harry, we will die or we will be sent to Azkaban because _time travel is forbidden even now_, even now before people knew the real damage that could be caused to a timeline although the incident with Pierre Dearborn is yet to occur and Harry, _they will know_ because we are not from 1944 and we _simply cannot_ make it seem like we are." Hermione finally finished, her lips trembling as her best friend patiently waited for her to finish rambling.

"Hermione – I know. I _agree_ with you. We should not have trusted Dumbledore. I know that now." He spoke gently and laid a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to collapse. "I think it is best if the rest of the letter was read."

Hermione nodded, attempting her best at keeping her tears in her lids. "I know that you are now terribly furious with me, but it is important that you understand the dangers which can occur if you are not careful. The time you are given needs to be spent accordingly to your plans. It is not wise to waste time. Now, that you have hopefully accepted your mission–" Hermione snorted in a very un-lady-like manner. Alas, she continued. "Please enlarge the baggage I have given you and proceed to give the second letter to me. If I remember clearly, I will be spending this evening in my Transfiguration office on the second floor. Please do not reveal any future visions to my past self. Good luck, Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter. Perhaps you will be less infuriated with me when you return. Best wishes, Albus Dumbledore."

When she looked over to Harry, he had already enlarged they luggage and was rummaging through a trunk that had a label with his name on it. When she peeked at the one which she assumed was under her ownership, she frowned slightly. The trunk said 'Hermione Guerra' and when she looked at Harry's, she discovered that they shared a last name.

"I don't understand." She stated as Harry placed what seemed to be another letter from Dumbledore. She began to read. What surprised – almost startled her, was the fact that she _was growing tired of reading_. Perhaps that was the fault of her previous headmaster. Her previous _sneaky_, manipulative and bizarre headmaster. "You must have now discovered your luggage. Please let me explain the family names as you may be confused. Muggleborns where not viewed any more desirable than they had been in the future, meaning that Ms. Guerra nee Granger is now Hermione Guerra, of the prestigious and pureblooded Italian family of wizards. To ease matters, Harry must now present himself as Ms. Guerra's fraternal twin. This is to make your story much more credible and authentic. You each have a small black satchel inside your trunk which contains a Guerra family ring. Please wear this to ensure authenticity."

They did as they were told. "Now that I have informed you of your new personas, I must tell you the aim of your mission. Tom Marvolo Riddle, or as you may know him to be Lord Voldemort in the future, will be attending his 7th year. He will be in Slytherin and made Headboy. Despite what I had told you, you must not under any circumstance harm Mr. Riddle." She stopped then and shared an estranged look with Harry. "You must with your best efforts _distract_ or _change_ him. Anything else, I am afraid, would alter the timeline far too much. You may return to a world which you may not recognize. With that being said, I wish you the best in your mission."

Hermione fell to her knees and sighed, her palms digging into her eye sockets. This new information which she was yet to digest was slowly giving her a migraine. She then searched through her trunk to see a few bags filled with a _fortune_ of galleons, a birth certificate with her new name, fake previous records and a pure blood certificate. Another newspaper which dated back to the 17th of May, 1944 showed the Guerra family to be murdered by supporters of Grindelwald. She guessed they were meant to pose as orphans. It was nothing new to her.

Countless of items of high-class clothing were shrunk to make room for more. Dumbledore had the decency to include many rare books in her trunk, which she guessed was an apology for his manipulative scheming. She noticed the 1944-esque uniform and shoes and other items to make her appear as a pureblood socialite. Harry was given the same.

"Right, I guess it's time to find Dumbledore. We can't waste time."

"Hermione, before we leave, I think we should alter my appearance slightly. Not only because we have to look more alike but also because – because I think my grandfather may be in Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded. It would be best to do so now as appearing differently tomorrow at the welcome feast would make the Professors suspicious. After charms were performed on Harry to his skin to a peachy-tan, Hermione then hid his scar. She soothed her hair to appear much tamer. She was after all, meant to appear as a respectable pureblood. Appearance would matter the most in this time. She could not _afford_ to make any mistakes.

When her hair was tamed and fell in silky curls, they changed into Wizard robes and left in search of Dumbledore.

* * *

"What a – a shame, Miss Guerra. It would have been a _pleasure_ to have made you a Headgirl with your outstanding records. Alas, if you had attended Hogwarts in your previous years, it would have been a splendid choice. What a shame, don't you agree, Albus? What a shame indeed. But I do doubt that you could manage with the tragedy that had befallen you two."

Hermione felt a spike of anger but she only shared a look with Harry. "I am very glad you had sought out Hogwarts as a sanctuary. We offer the best education in the wizarding world, if I may say so. This conflict has taken a very unfair toll on our world, but Hogwarts will always offer help to those who seek it."

Hermione simply nodded. "Thank you, Headmaster Dippet. Your kind words are allowing our wounds to heal faster." She almost spat out but the current headmaster didn't take notice of it.

"Oh, what a gracious attitude. Such a humble young lady. You will be a very adequate addition to this school. As will you, Mr Guerra." He said and it must have been the first time he had smiled in a century, Hermione decided, because it was crooked and awkward and she looked to see Dumbledore looking horrified but also amused at the same time. "Now, I will not keep you from rest any further. You will be shown to our guest quarters. We have four houses in Hogwarts which I am positive Albus will joyfully explain to you on your travel to your rest. You will be sorted into your house at the welcoming feast tomorrow. Enjoy your evening, students."

Hermione and Harry could not have escaped the office faster.

* * *

**I don't have much to say, other than the fact that this story will be as original as I can make a timetravel!Tomione to be. Alas, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Reviews and some constructive criticism would be much appreciated. **_**I AM ALSO LOOKING FOR A BETA**_**! Cheers.**


	2. in which there are snakes

**Background Music: **Missing by The XX

**Act II  
**

* * *

September 1st, 1944

**HERMIONE**

* * *

Fallacious. Adjective. Meaning? _Wrong_,_ false_. Synonyms? _Delusive_, _fraudulent_, _deceptive_. Example? _This situation is undeniably fallacious._

Hermione was blinking harshly. She stood behind Professor Dumbledore as Headmaster Dippet went on with his annual welcoming speech. Harry's presence was the only thing keeping her sane. The only thing keeping her grounded and rational. The hundreds of eyes on them were _not_. To make matters worse, students were not the only one's staring at the two 'twins' with interest. The Professors were too.

She noticed a slightly younger, slightly _less rounded_ version of Professor Slughorn eyeing the pair with pure ambition and determination.

She knew that look. It made her feel queasy.

Her eyes followed each Slytherin until she rested them on the older group. She wished she could tell which of them was Tom Riddle, but she couldn't spot his badge from even here. The Hogwarts students were also informed of the student council members before their arrival to Hogwarts to ease their first days at the castle.

She, along with Harry made a point to stay close to their poster twin and watch as First Years were sorted. A nostalgic feeling left a pang in Hermione's heart. _Oh, how she wished to be the one being sorted again instead of having this mission weigh in on her shoulders_.

"Harry," she whispered, hoping Dumbledore did not hear a thing. She licked her lips. Harry did not react visibly, but she knew he was listening. She caught the emerald hue of his eyes and released a shaky breath. "I'm scared."

There was silence for a couple of moments before he mumbled back a reply. "So am I."

And then she felt relief. Earth-shattering, selfish, unwanted relief that someone shared her feelings.

"Welcome to your new houses, students. I have no doubt that the house you have been appointed will welcome you with wide and open arms!" Dippet announced as the last students was sorted into Slytherin. "Now, as you may have noticed, Hogwarts has received a new wonderful and very interesting addition this year. Please welcome Hermione and Harrold from the prestigious and honoured family of Guerra."

Students clapped, some reeling at the pair, some looking intrigued and some plainly bored.

Dippet continued. "They will be sorted before their student body and I dearly hope that these remarkable young people will find a home _and_ a sanctuary in their appointed houses." Dippet stated as Dumbledore motioned for Harry to sit on the stool before him.

Before it had even touched a single hair on Harry's head, much alike Malfoy's sorting, the old and ugly hat called out 'Slytherin!'. Hermione, in all her vain, attempted to look as unsurprised and happy for her poster twin as she could.

The war had changed them. War had _changed_ them. War had made them into people that they were never meant to be. War had changed their personalities. War had them on the edge of their very survival, forcing them to use resources they were _never meant to use_. War was war.

Hermione sat on the stool next, glad to have Harry next to her again. She knew it was tradition to join the appointed house immediately but she allowed herself to remain selfish for a lingering moment when she realized she was glad for having him wait.

_A very wise mind. _The hat mused inside her head. _A very wise mind indeed. What could you do with this knowledge, Ms. Granger? Or is it Ms. Guerra now? Hm? But alas, where to _put_ you? Certainly not Hufflepuff – you have shown selfishness that could make even a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor cower in fear. You definitely _are_ brave, my dear but how very clever and cunning. Very resourceful and traditional too, I see. You collect knowledge. Ah, yes. I think I know where I shall place you!_

Hermione's heart beat faster in fear, sweat rolling down her cheek as she shut her eyes tighter. She felt a splinter enter her thumb and she bit her lip.

"No." She whispered but she already knew the hats choice.

The blasted object called out 'Slytherin!' once more, and the student body clapped along.

The next events unrolled quiet quickly.

Slughorn has collected them and led them down, down, down the Slytherin table, all the while mumbling about star students and acquired tastes in potions and how _he thought that the twins will be very valuable assets_, though she realized the two 'twins' were _not_ meant to hear that.

He then stopped still in front of a group of older boys a smiled broadly. "Ah! Here we are, Miss and Mr Guerra. These here are my _finest_ students and I am more than positive that they will make your stay at the castle positively _joyous_." He announced, his round thumbs hooked to his brown suspenders.

Hermione wanted to gag.

"Now, I will leave you to it," He said before he pointed at the boys. "Oh, go on, boys. Make some room for the newcomers!" He requested before simply turning around and waddling off towards the long table filled with Hogwarts staff.

Immediately, two new spots opened and Harry quickly sat between a girl with dark curls and sparkling eyes, who was watching Hermione rather mischievously, and a boy with pale blonde hair. A Malfoy, she realized.

The other spot was between a boy with a bored look and a boy who seemed to be the most interested in the twins. His shiny Headboy badge glinted, as if he sat polishing the blasted thing for hours.

Tom Riddle.

Tom _bloody_ Riddle.

She reluctantly took the spot and held her breath, attempting her hardest to keep a polite smile on her face. She was a lion, sitting amongst the snakes. How was she going to survive?

The war had changed them. Hermione adapted to these changes.

And then, she looked up as eyes penetrated hers. They were dark – obsidian. Dark onyx. But it wasn't as simple – describing them – as stating a rare gem. No – they were… peculiar and _yet_, so distinct. They were fascinating.

Clear alabaster, almost _ivory_ skin and gorgeous dark curls nested upon a head which held a face made up of the most symmetrical features she had ever seen. Straight nose, sculpted eyebrows and the most delicious curve of achingly desirable lips which – which was slowly turning from a tight-lipped and polite smile to a toothy grin.

The hauntingly and uncharacteristically pleasant smile shook her out of her trance and she swore her cheeks had gained a temperature. _Bugger_.

But Hermione gained confidence as she looked up again and faced the Headboy. "Hello, I'm Hermione," She stated softly. He was close – so close. Too close. She could feel his breath on her face. "And you are?"

"Tom Riddle." He stated after a lingering moment and his gaze felt like a caress. A poisonous one.

War had changed everything. War had changed her. War did _good_ to her. War made her brave.

She then broke the contact and faced the others, slowly prompting them to introduce themselves.

The pale blonde lifted his hand in greeting and flashed a charming smile. _Malfoy_ charm. "Abraxas Malfoy."

The boy across from him wore a scowl on his face, as if he had not seen worse scum walking the earth. It made her shiver when he spat out his own name through gritted teeth. "Antonin Dolohov." He said and – oh. _Oh_. Oh no.

And then, it was Theodore Nott (who she guessed was Theo's father) and Edmond Lestrange and then, a boy with dirty blonde hair and a friendly smile caught her attention. It caught her attention because it was_ real_, not forced. It was warm.

It was Ron's smile.

And it hurt. It hurt more than the scar on her arm and more than seeing her parents fall at the hands of the killing curse and it hurt most – _it hurt most because Hermione missed that smile_.

"Sebastian Avery."

"Hello." She responded in greeting and she felt Riddle's gaze on her as Avery was the only boy she responded to. Avery's eyes were as black as Riddle's, but they were not poisonous. They were in no way _toxic _or alluring or dangerous or – they were warm and gentle. They looked like Ron. They felt like home.

"So, Guerra," Riddle suddenly spoke up. It took Hermione and Harry a second before they realized they were meant to respond to their new last name. "Where was it that you said you were from?"

Hermione gritted her teeth and kept in a groan. This was Tom Riddle. Not Voldemort. Not Voldemort. Tom Riddle. "We didn't actually. But we're from Italy if you must know. But how could you not have?" She asked sweetly and politely but her tone had a biting edge to it. While Avery and Malfoy looked amused, along with the mysterious girl, Riddle did not.

"Forgive me, Miss Guerra. I only keep track of those who are of importance to me." He said simply but she realized that he was restraining himself. He was angry.

With resignation and a bottom lip being bitten, she turned away and looked to see Avery watching her with mirth. He was entertained by her rebellious retort but Riddle in return, was not in the least.

She then caught the eye of the girl who had not introduced herself. The girl with the wild curly black hair with lighter tips and dark kohl around her eyes was _exquisite_ and she was a stark contrast to her boring self. "Druella." She simply stated and then she smiled wickedly, reminding her of Ginny-on-a-mission.

Hermione smiled back. "Pleasure."

"Oh, of course it is." The girl said and there was something oddly alluring about her. Her brown eyes were almost amber and her tan skin had a beautiful glow. Even her features were beautiful and Hermione could tell she could hold any boy's attention as easily as Hermione could finish a thousand-page tone in a singular night. "I can tell we're going to be _great_ friends."

Hermione had the urge to giggle. As if she was young again – as if she hadn't _really_ witnessed the fatality and crudeness of war. As if she had a chance to start over.

* * *

Hermione's hands rolled around the cold railings and she observed the grounds, the nostalgic feeling returning. She wished it would go away. It – it was doing no good to her self-preservation.

Lush flowerbeds and trees graced the grounds. She could see the black lake; dark but still. The Dark Forest and its unique aura could even be seen from here, although it was almost pitch dark. The moon was not out during this night and Hermione was grateful. It would have been easier to spot her.

The war had changed everything, and yet – and _yet_, it had not changed anything yet. The changes had not occurred. And with determination and a simple nod to her honour, she vowed they never will.

She was positive she could – "What are you doing here?" A sharp voice demanded and she gasped, interrupted mid-thought. Her heart pounded all the way up to her throat and her vision blurred as she spun around. "You aren't allowed here at night without supervision."

Riddle.

"Oh – I – sorry." She stammered. Her brain was refusing to catch up to speed with the events unravelling before her. She had never – _never_ been alone with Voldemort.

Riddle watched her, silently waiting for an explanation and when he did not receive one, he sighed. She noticed the wand twirling in his hand. "It is past curfew, Guerra. I would hate to have to deduct points from my own house."

"I didn't know." Hermione managed to reply. She was attempting to relieve her voice from all fear but she could see it was not working. _He was so close. So close._ "I was talking to Druella and then the boys just disappeared when you did and I tried to look for them and then when I went back to the Great Hall, it was already empty so I tried to find my way or even a Professor but I couldn't and then I found _this_ and I—"

Riddle cut her off, raising a hand, but not the one which held his wand. "It's quiet alright. I understand. I myself had gotten lost past curfew when I was younger."

Was than an insult? She was hoping he didn't pick up on her terrible lying.

"I will show you back to the common room." He held out the hand backwards as if to show her the way. Hermione gulped.

Don't turn your back on your enemy. Don't turn your back on your enemy. Don't turn your back – she turned her back on her enemy. She walked silently down the stairs, and if it had not been for the hand that held her upwards when she tripped on her cloak, she would not have known if Riddle was even following her. But he was. And she was terrified.

She yelped.

He didn't acknowledge it.

He didn't let go off her until they were safely on ground level and when he did, she felt his calculating gaze on the back of her head. She suddenly stopped, remembering that she was not _meant_ to know where the Slytherin dungeons were.

After only a minute of silence and quick footsteps. "You're afraid of me." He stated simply but his expression didn't change by a fraction. "I wonder why that is?"

"W—what?" She sputtered, almost outraged. But she knew it was true. She was terrified. She was seconds from shaking in her own shoes.

"I am quite well acquainted with keeping notice of details and everything points towards you being afraid of me. The scream, the blinking – the fisted hands."

"I don't think it's polite to be assuming and influencing your _own_ observations on a lady, Riddle."

He stopped in his place and his black eyes swept over her. She felt naked. Vulnerable. She felt – she felt as if he was touching her without any physical contact. And then he smirked but it didn't look ugly. It looked mischievous. Calculating. "You're hardly a lady."

Now _that_ was an insult.

"Alas, here we are." He said and pointed to a blank wall. He spoke the password aloud, most likely prompting her to remember it.

When he did, a wall moved forward and to the side, allowing them entrance. She was quickly greeted by Harry who looked almost panicked. Others would think it was because he thought she was lost. But Hermione knew better. Hermione knew it was because she was alone with Riddle.

But then the boys called Harry back and Hermione was once again left with the spawn of Satan, with his unbelievably and insultingly good looks, charming personality and sharp tongue. "I apologise, Hermione – is it alright with you if I call you that? I hope that it is. I did not mean to come off as rude."

She searched his eyes. Black. Abyss. Nothing. She couldn't tell if he was lying and yet she felt as if she was an open book to him. "Of course, Tom. There is no need to be sorry. I'm sure I must have angered you by being out this late."

He almost flinched and Hermione wanted to laugh because he had clearly lied _and she was the one to sound sincere_ and he _knew_ that.

"Now, I would like to get some rest. Enjoy your evening, Tom. I am sure to enjoy mine."

And with that, she turned around and left a fuming Tom Riddle behind her.

* * *

**I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please take note of the song I had presented to you at the very beginning of this chapter. I chose it to set the mood. I would love some reviews as I did not receive many, though I received plenty of other alerts. I hope this chapter receives more reviews than the previous one! Cheers x**


	3. in which there is an Avery

**Background Music: **Who We Are by Imagine Dragons

**Act III  
**

* * *

September 6th, 1944

**AVERY**

* * *

Sebastian Avery has grown very, _very_ fond of Hermione Guerra.

She may not have that perfect, desired figure like countless of other girls in their year did and her Italian, believe it or not, was actually quiet _shit_ but she had a warmth to her. She was homely and intriguing and sometimes, she wore a very sweet and broad smile _just for him_ and _just – just – _it made him feel _nice_.

Like he didn't throw around nasty hexes and unnecessary pranks at unknowing First years in his spare time. Like he was a person that someone could potentially treat as a friend, not a servant or a right-hand lackey. As someone that could be _trusted_ without a doubt. Like someone that saw _good_ in him.

Yes, she was a very intriguing witch.

But – of course – every talented and brilliant person _always_ had haters, and the Gryffindor's, although rather civil, obviously had _not_ taken a liking to Hermione and this seemed to not sit well with Hermione at all. She was friendly to everyone (even the Headgirl, Luciana, who had taken an instant dislike to Hermione but then again, she was a Ravenclaw and those fuckwits always thought themselves high and mighty) and although the kindness she treated the Hufflepuff's with made him cringe and Dolohov snort (and insult her over this action), he understood that Hermione was _a good person_. For a snake, that is.

And then there was Harry Guerra and if he did _not_ in fact share a last name with the girl, Avery would have thought that those two were further from being related than that of Dumblegoon and Slughorn. Alas, the boy was snarky and witty when he needed to be and his words carried enough sarcasm to allow him to be a snake. Sebastian had also observed him in Defense against Dark Arts and he wasn't _too bad_ of a duellist, although his twin sister surpassed him in even _that_.

She was intriguing indeed.

"Are you staring at Guerra _again_?" Although Tom had not sounded as obnoxious as he did last night, his volume had not been taken down by even a _notch_. "It's a bit irritating, you see. I would hate to deduct points from your ego if I lost a mark in this class."

Sebastian's cheeks turned bright red and his black eyes left the female figure, instead focusing on the potion ingredients which were meant to be prepared minutes before. Tom sighed from next to him and when the other boy looked up; he could see the strain in his eyes. He was holding himself back.

Tom clearly was _not_ happy with the little crush Sebastian developed for Hermione.

"Any other girl, Avery and I would be more than happy to let it go on but Guerra –" He paused, turning his face to look at the girl that was working happily away with Malfoy. What a charming scene. "She's strange. And very _unpredictable_. Have you noticed that? It makes me wonder what she is hiding," He said softly, his eyes never straying from his ingredients when he stopped his observation of the girl. "She's afraid of me and – and she _lied_ about it. Wouldn't that make _you_ wonder?"

Sebastian stayed silent for a moment, thinking of ways to phrase his statement. "You can be quiet intimidating when you want to be, Tom. And uh – I heard her telling Harry how much you scared her. She thought you were going to report her and well, with such a highly-academic background, it wouldn't sit well on her _curriculum vitae_."

"Is that what she told him?" Tom mused and an innocent smile played on his lips.

Sebastian shivered. "Yes."

They continued their potion in silence until Sebastian found the courage to speak again. "Well, you know that I want to get in her knickers. What do _you_ want from her?"

Tom snorted, his nose scrunching up as he visualized the predicament. However, when he spoke, his voice was as soft and gentle as it had been previously. "She's fascinating, don't you think?"

Sebastian liked his lips and looked around to see if anyone was keeping a close eye on them. When the coast was clear, so to speak, he leaned closer to Tom and dropped his voice to a whisper. "They would make great addition to the cause, wouldn't you say? She's fucking _brilliant_, and Harry – I reckon he would follow her anywhere."

Immediately, Tom stiffened his pose and although no one paid attention to them, his cheeks heated with anger. Sebastian realized his mistake and returned to his side of the table as Tom spoke with a soft but sharp stone. "Shut the fuck_ up_. What if someone had _heard_? After that stunt with – with the Mudblood… Merlin, Avery, use that pompous head of yours. Dumbledore has ears _ everywhere_, I don't doubt that. Fuck."

"I'm sorry, Tom." Sebastian said in a quick hush. Apologizing wasn't his specialty in any way but he _knew_ he was in the wrong and shit like this – like this apologizing and head bowing – he knew Tom liked it. He liked respect and he wasn't afraid to punish when someone didn't _show_ him that respect. And Sebastian? He rather save his ass than his ego.

"And anyway, you can't do anything with the girl. You're already betrothed, are you not? You're to marry right out of school – how _pathetic_, really – and I doubt your father would appreciate you getting into another witch's knickers before _that_ all goes down," Tom said, his voice overbearingly smug. Sebastian shut his eyes momentarily. Thinking of the upcoming event made him want to vomit. "Also – and don't tell this to anyone – but Dolohov… there is something up with him lately. I don't care what it is, really. He's always been a hot-headed Neanderthal but it seems that he has taken a very special dislike to the twins. We wouldn't want him to be making any _rash_ choices and having him end up hurt, now would we?"

Sebastian shook his head and sighed. "No, we wouldn't. But then again, Tom, Dolohov hates _everyone_. He's never even had a girlfriend. He hates people in general."

Tom grimaced. "We can't afford him being a moron this year. We have _plans_, Sebastian," He paused and turned his head slightly and stared at the girl with a pinnacle of interest in his eyes. "And Sebastian, do keep an eye on the three. Something tells me that Dolohov won't be able _but_ to get his hands dirty."

Sebastian nodded.

* * *

The blasted girl couldn't be found _anywhere_ and Sebastian was growing tired of searching for her. He knew that, well… that there was no _actual_ reason to be searching for her. Dolohov was supposedly with Tom right now as was everyone else except for himself and Hermione.

Sebastian hadn't seen her since their Potions class that morning and although he wasn't worried (Hermione was clearly more than talented and could defend herself quiet easily), he kind of just wanted to – to _find_ her and just _talk_ to her.

He liked her smile. He wanted to have a _friend_ who didn't throw around orders and demands and didn't punish him if he was a second late to a fucking meeting. With that said, Tom was a good friend. He was protective and in his own sick way, Sebastian _knew_ that he cared but Hermione was sweet and innocent and although he had no business getting in her skirt and didn't have _feelings_ for her other than that little crush that had died as soon as it had begun – he just kind of wanted to be in her presence.

She was _nice_ to him.

And then he found her – sitting in an alcove by herself. Writing.

Her hair was up in some weird, trendy, twisted thing on the top of her head but a few strands of hair had escaped and she grew irritated with them, puffing little breaths of air to keep them out of her chocolate-coloured eyes.

He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

The sound made her look up in alarm and Sebastian immediately noticed the tightening of her knuckles around the binding of her journal and her plump lips forming a straight line.

"I'm so sorry – I didn't mean to frighten you. I just thought it was funny how angry you were." He finished awkwardly and looked down, feeling like an idiot. Damn him for his lack of social skills. He probably looked like a douche.

Hermione, however, didn't appear phased by his awkwardness and smiled widely. "That's alright. I just wasn't expecting anyone to be here. I thought everyone was eating dinner."

Sebastian noted that her hands still hadn't relaxed and when she took out her wand to cast a _Lumos_, he knew she was using it for false reasons. It was still considerably light outside, even for Scotland and its gloomy weather.

This made him sigh. As warm and friendly and approving as she was of him, she was still afraid.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," He whispered and sat down next to her slowly as to not alarm her. "Of course – what, with your circumstances – I understand, but Hermione," And he said this softly, looking down on the floor. He wasn't a _bad_ person. He wasn't good, but he certainly wasn't _bad_, was he? "I won't hurt you, alright? You are safe here at Hogwarts."

She was looking down at the words she wrote and out of privacy, he didn't read them. Tom would have, but he wasn't _Tom_. He noticed how the corner of her lips twitched and he waited patiently for her to say something. When she did, she smiled sadly. "Losing my parents – that showed me what… it showed me that I was no longer a child. That my childhood was _over_ because of this – of this war and – and I just… _Merlin_, _I want him to die_, Sebastian."

Although he had never thought he would hear something as vicious and blinded by fury come from her lips, he understood. He _understood_. "That doesn't make you a bad person, Hermione. It simply makes you _human_."

She looked up at him and her guarded expression disappeared and she was looking at him as if he _understood_, as if _those_ were the words she was searching for. "Do you really think that?"

His question struck him straight through the heart and he had to shut his eyes.

He wasn't a bad person. He was a good person. A good person who did _bad_ things but no, he was not a _bad_ person, was he? _He was not a bad person_.

"Yes." He answered simply.

They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, but he liked this. This silence and relaxation and Merlin, if he could only continue like this for the entirety of his life. He was sick of tragedy and Unforgivables and pain and gut-wrenching displays of Tom's sadistic nature.

Alas, it was too late to leave. He owed Tom. He owed Tom everything he was and he'd be damned if he disappointed the only person who ever showed his appreciation and praise and offered him a place_, _a _home_ in such Elite ranks.

He owed Tom.

Sebastian was a _good_ person.

_Wasn't he?_

* * *

**So this chapter was much shorter than the previous ones, but I really wanted to write from a different characters point of view to show **_**their**_** outlook on the situation and the new students. Did you like Sebastian? **_**Please**_** let me know. I am planning on writing from other character's point of views (with Tomione, of course, still being the central and main couple). I am also planning on writing some diary entries to further reveal Tom's character as Hermione **_**can't**_** simply discover **_**everything**_** on him, can she?**

**Reviews would be much appreciated! Cheers. x**


	4. in which there is curiosity

**Background Music: **Bloodstream by Stateless

**Act IV  
**

* * *

September 15th, 1944

**HERMIONE**

* * *

It was a Friday night and although the curfew was extended during the weekends, Hermione knew that re-reading time travel subjected books over and over and over again from the cover to the references wouldn't do well not only to her health but also to her _very_ fragile sanity.

Tom Riddle could be blamed for that. Tom alabaster-skinned-headboy-slash-devil-incarnated-extraordinaire Riddle could _definitely_ be blamed for that.

He stared at her. He was _kind_ to her. His eyes held something; _always_ looking at her as if she held some precious secret. Some incredibly dangerous secret (she did but _that wasn't the point_) and this did not ease her nerves. Tom riddle stared at her as if she was anything other than an ordinary, pureblooded witch who was to be married off straight after school and Hermione just couldn't have that.

It was too risky. Too dangerous.

Sebastian had been proven to be a good friend. This seemed to make Harry suspicious and Tom annoyed. It only took about a minute of begging for Sebastian to curse and yell and _finally_ agree to steal Tom's seats in their joint classes. Yes, Tom Riddle most definitely became annoyed with the notion.

Shoving her thoughts to the much darker corners of her mind, Hermione entered the Slytherin common room. What she was expecting to be dark and sinister and cold actually turned out to be not only a social and friendly place with a warm atmosphere, but a studious room filled with ambitious and focused students.

However, this was a Friday night and Friday nights in the Slytherin common room were neither spent studiously nor ambitiously.

A circle of 7th years sat by the green flames (charmed to suit the texture and hue of the common room) and she bit her lip, choosing to wander along the wall to avoid being seen. She didn't fear for Harry's safety; he seemed to fit right into the group of Voldemort's earliest Deatheaters.

She was inching towards the girls dormitory when a yell across the room stopped her in her tracks. Damn Sebastian.

"Oi, Hermione! Where are _you_ off to? We've been waiting for you since dinner, you silly bird." Her friend cheerfully called across to her, knowing it would annoy her further. She noted Tom's scowl when Sebastian called her by a nickname.

A small smirk formed on her lips but she rid herself of it when she turned to face the group. "Why is that?"

Sebastian smiled widely and his black eyes twinkled in joy. "We're playing a game, you see. We were just waiting for one half of the twin duo. I mean, how boring would it be to have Harry reveal every single embarrassing detail about you without you doing the same?"

Hermione groaned, very aware of the inhumane sound and the raising eyebrows but choosing to ignore it. "I don't _want_ to play any games."

Abraxes rolled his eyes, picture perfect rendition of his future grandson. "Please, you've been holed up in that dusty hell-hole every single day of this week. I thought you'd be more entertaining that than, Guerra."

Harry winced at the Malfoy's statement when Hermione scowled. The blond then shrunk in his spot and looked away. Riddle grinned.

Alas, she took a seat between Sebastian and Dolohov who looked neither comfortable nor amused. She ignored the way Tom's eyes narrowed when she ignored the space next to him. She ignored the way his jaw twitched. Instead, she settled into the crook of Sebastian's arm and the Headboy turned his head to look at the flames in irritation.

He was growing angry at her purposeful avoidance of him.

"So what's this game called then, lads?" Hermione questioned carefully when no one had spoken.

To this, Sebastian laughed nervously. "We aren't, little bird. I was – I couldn't think of a way for you to join us. We all know you're a curious little thing. You wouldn't have gone off to bed if you were the subject of our conversation."

Hermione scowled again and her friend tensed, waiting for the upcoming abuse. Instead, Hermione smiled and asked another question. To hell with Riddle and his damned glares. "So what are you doing then?"

At this, Harry smiled sheepishly and dug out a large bottle of fire whiskey from behind him. "Just having a drink, 'Mione."

Hermione snorted and stood up. "Well, enjoy your night then. I am _not_ going to partake in the extracurricular activities which could lead to expulsion."

"I hardly think anyone will be leaving if I have anything to say about it." Tom spoke directly to her now and although he was speaking of expulsion, she could hear the double-meaning behind his words.

He was ordering her to stay and everyone else around them knew this. Even Dolohov looked sympathetic.

"As much as I am enjoying the view of your lovely legs and white knickers, I am not in fact enjoying the glare from Harry – _OW_!"

Hermione had hit Sebastian in the face with the large tome she was holding – another book she had been lending from the library. Nothing of importance really, but it was important to keep up appearances. Everyone laughed but Tom but even _he_ had an amused smile on his lips. When he was aware of her stare, he dropped the smile and cleared his throat, resuming his previous position of crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

Druella's voice spoke from behind Hermione then. "Oh come _on_, Darling! Have some fun. _Please_? I don't like being alone with these boys."

Hermione snorted and gave Druella a look because _that is exactly what she liked_ and both of them knew it. Alas, Druella was humorous and entertaining and Hermione gave in with a sigh. She resumed her seat next to Sebastian and Druella sat on Harry's lap, embarrassing him.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her new female friend and the girl shrugged in reply as Druella's blonde friend sat next to Tom, a sweet tinge on her pale cheeks. With interest, Hermione observed as Tom didn't even acknowledge the girl and didn't spare Druella a look even though her feet touched his in the small space. They simply stared back at her, the dark eyes observing her with that same well-hid anguish and interest.

It bothered Hermione. It made her squirm.

Tom raised a perfectly-sculpted brow at this. "Are you quiet alright there, Hermione?"

"Fine, Riddle. Thanks for asking."

He sneered and then composed his face, aware of the audience. "I am growing tired of reminding you to call me by my first name."

Hermione let a dramatic sigh leave her lips and she watched as Tom's eyes slipped to the them, his own tightening against his pearly whites as he faked a smile. All for show. All for his followers. "And _I_ am growing tired of hearing it. I'll call you whatever I like, I think."

She watched the clenching of his jaw, the tightening of his eyes and fists and the predatory twist of his smile. So perfect. So immaculate. Always _so_ composed. "How rude."

"Yes, well – I am not your average witch. I won't pull up my skirt at the first flattering remark, nor will I do as I am told."

Something in Tom's eyes changed, and they were no longer curious or angry. They screamed something along the lines of 'bingo!' as if to say '_there_ she is' or '_there_ is my stubborn little witch'. Merlin, did she want to hit _him_ across the face with that large book. He was looking at her as if she was some incredible discovery – his shiny little toy.

She _was not_ his bloody toy.

And so their regular staring contest began as her brows rose and she glared at him. Tom, in turn grinned and bit his lip often as if amused by their little competition. Hermione wasn't. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to bloody his pretty straight nose and blacken his dark eyes and tug at his perfect hair and – Merlin, he knew just how to agitate her without speaking a word.

The group was discussing something irrelevant and as always, ignored Hermione and Tom and their amusing staring contests as they drank from the bottle and exchanged stupid stories about pervy sixth years and that time Augusta Longbottom wrote Tom Riddle a love letter and he read it aloud 'by accident' to the entirety of the student body.

Riddle's eyes snapped to where Sebastian curled his fingers around Hermione's shoulder and then to her downwards, where polished black shoes curved over her small feet. Then, they travelled upwards one honey-coloured leg and rested on her clenched hands which were wrapped in her jumper.

Hermione's face was suddenly beginning to glow with heat as she blinked stupidly at Tom's behaviour. He observed her often – she could feel his gaze on the back of her head in Transfiguration and the way his eyes swept over her hands in Potions and how he would stare and narrow his eyes and frown at her hair – but never like _this._ He never watched her with such fascination, with such predatory _hunger_.

But he didn't stop, because his eyes were travelling along her throat and he gulped, his own fists tightening as he blinked. From her lips to her nose, to the top of her head; they suddenly stopped at her eyes again and he held her gaze with parted lips and something akin to fascination shined over his dark eyes.

And then – and _then_, Hermione noticed. Hermione noticed that his eyes weren't black (alike his soul) but a very, very dark hue of blue. So dark she could barely see but they were blue and Hermione could not simply _comprehend_ why that made such a huge difference. Maybe it was because she was expecting him to be completely evil, or maybe because although he was easily a devil incarnate, his eyes were the most pure evidence of angelic presence she had ever witnessed.

They were so mesmerizing and his thick and straight eye lashes framed his eyes with such gentleness and _Merlin_, why was he so bloody beautiful? It wasn't _fair_.

She ignored the smallest smirk pulling on his lips as he looked on in triumph. He knew he had gotten to her.

_Bastard_.

And then, she felt it. She felt the dark aura reaching for her and whipping at her shields and she quickly shook herself out of her trance, trying her hardest to keep her mind in check.

She wanted to scream at him – to slap him into oblivion and call him out in front of his lackeys as his smile slowly dropped and was replaced with anger and determination and fascination and something, something –

She pushed his damned magic away with such force, he physically winced and blinked harshly. As soon as Hermione came to terms with what Riddle had just tried to do, she gasped loudly and stood up, her dear heart racing. Everyone turned to face her with caution as if she was about to explode.

"What wrong, Hermione?" Sebastian asked quickly, surprised and wary.

Hermione gulped, avoiding the eyes of the Headboy. "N – nothing. I just – cramp in my leg. You know how it happens. I – you know, I'm so tired. Honestly. I'm about to pass out."

She wanted to slap herself for her nervous muttering and she almost jumped when Druella touched her arm, worried. "I'll walk you?"

Hermione shook her head quickly, smiling awkwardly. "No, I'm fine. I'll see you at breakfast, okay?"

Druella nodded but didn't look happy with the lie Hermione had just told her. Sebastian looked confused and concerned, Dolohov happy, Harry worried as he readjusted his messy hair over and over and everyone else simply looked uncomfortable.

Except for Riddle. He looked mildly astonished and very, very agitated.

Hermione turned and walked away quickly but she didn't walk towards the girls dormitory until she caught Tom's gaze again. He looked triumphant. She ran as fast as she could.

* * *

**TOM  
**

* * *

_Diary,_

_I didn't think – I _know_ I shouldn't have done it but I was so _curious_ and – and why was I even so fascinated by such an ordinary and good for nothing witch?_

_Witches were useless and emotional and distrustful and useless and – but yes, I already said that. Hermione, on the other hand – I should not have used legilimency on her. She is furious now. She _knows_ what I can do and that was not suppoused to happen and – but Merlin, I was so extremely tempted because of that damned witch and – _

_She fascinated me. She was strange. Her eyes burned with far too much fire for her to belong in Slytherin and her hair was this curious shade of blonde and brown and auburn. It was always so nicely kept but in Potions – boy, was it a mess. I liked it that way._

_I wanted to be the one to make her hair stand in all of those crazy directions and have her doing – Avery was excruciatingly annoying and spiteful around the girl. He should be put in place, alas, it wouldn't do well for his loyalty. The girl liked their friendship and it wouldn't flatter her very much._

_But then again, she _had_ said she wouldn't pull her skirt up at the very first remark._

_Not that I – no, I didn't want her to. Not for me. (I would make many, many more flattering remarks, I decided.)_

_Or for anyone._

_But – it made me curious._

_She was fascinating._

* * *

**I plan on writing many more diary entries of Tom's. Did you guys enjoy reading this entry? It was fun to be inside Tom's head for a while, I admit. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter in the reviews. I see so many favourites and alerts, and yet barely anyone ever reviews. That makes me quiet sad. Cheers! x**


	5. in which there is tension

**Background Music: **Ghosts That We Knew by Mumford &amp; Sons

**Act V  
**

* * *

September 19th, 1944

**HERMIONE**

* * *

Tom Riddle and Hermione 'Guerra' Granger had not spoken since Friday night. Not a word passed their lips in regards to each other – not _one_ simple provoking insult nor misplaced and degrading compliment.

This made Hermione immensely wary.

Riddle was a lunatic, a sociopath – a cold-hearted, manipulative killer. He had attempted to use _legilimency_ on her. So why wasn't he hunting her down and threatening to harm her if she didn't open her mind up to him? His actions so far disturbed both Harry and Hermione.

Why wasn't he feasting on Muggleborns and charming unsuspecting Professors to the brink of insanity? Merlin, this made _no sense_.

Alas, Hermione knew she had to 'up her game', so to say. They were getting absolutely nowhere being vicious towards one another. She was completely ignoring the plan presented to them in the letter.

Fury rose in her throat as she scowled at the ground of the Hogwarts hallway. She wanted to curse Dumbledore and his manipulative schemes. Although so far, the fake twins had avoided the old wizard and his suspicious staring. After all, they weren't his biggest fans as of late.

Hermione quickly walked into her Potions class before the door was magically shut by her Professor.

He guffawed although his face looked ashamed. "Oh, dear! My apologies Miss Guerra. I didn't mean to frighten you, girl."

Hermione didn't spare the greedy and ambitious professor a look as she took a seat farthest from the devil himself. When she looked at him from the corner of her eye, he completely ignored her existence but a prejudiced sneer graced his face.

Hermione sighed as Harry looked amused at their exchange, but his eyes held worry. He leaned in closer and whispered in her ear. "We need to talk, yeah?"

Hermione nodded in response as Slughorn wrote a name of a potion on the board. Oh, good. They would finally about begin practical assessment. He turned to the class and jovially looked between his star students, as if setting them up for competition. "Now, who would like to tell me the name of the infamous anti-depressant potion – "

Both hands tore into the air with determination. If there is anything Hermione had learned over the last few weeks, it was that Riddle was deeply and irritatingly competitive; something the two had in common.

Slughorn pointed at Hermione with mirth but Riddle didn't protest. Hermione answered quickly and smoothly, as if she had exercised her response a dozen times before. "The potion is called _Elixir to Induce Euphoria_," She cut off the Professor before he began to speak, toying with her heirloom with two fingers. "The potion, as stated in the name, is practiced to induce euphoria and happiness on the drinker and is also stated to be anti-depressant, although not for a permanent length of time. Of course, as any potion, it is said to have side effect, such as addiction and stages of withdrawal but also much harmless and humorous ones such as unpredictable singing and nose tweaking."

Slughorn watched Hermione with a wide smile, his hawk-like gaze satisfied with her knowledge. "My, my. I am once again _astounded_ by your knowledge, Miss Guerra. I had never quiet taught a witch of your intelligence."

"Thank you, sir."

Riddle snorted from the back but guessing by Slughorn's blissful ignorance, the professor in question hadn't noticed. "Now, my dear students. Today, we will be brewing this potion in order to assess your skills in Advanced Potion-making. This will determine your first set of rankings and also acknowledge your strengths and weaknesses in order to help you achieve the best results in your NEWT's come the end of the year." He stated and magically unlocked the ingredient storage. "Because, originally, this potion is quiet complex and sometimes impossible to brew if not cautious enough, I will be assigning you a partner."

Although the much less advanced students looked satisfied with this turn of the events, Hermione was much more irritated as were numerous other students. She noticed Harry sparing her hopeful looks although he had successfully brewed this potion in their sixth year and certainly didn't _need_ her help.

"Now, now. I had already assigned partners based on the results achieved in your previous pop quiz."

Hermione shifted and blinked, becoming uncomfortable. She already knew the outcome of this situation and it made her want to bury her head in the ground. When she looked up, Harry was already sitting with his partner (who was a girl with greasy blonde hair and arrogance clear on her face, a bronze and blue scarf pressed neatly against her crisp white shirt) and Riddle was seating in his place, placing his books on his desk and joining her to gather their ingredients.

Remembering what Harry had told her the year before, she quickly grabbed a sprig of peppermint and placed it on their tray. Riddle eyed her suspiciously but didn't speak a word.

When they hard returned and placed their ingredients and began to heat their cauldron, she finally burst with anger. "I can't believe you tried to do that." She hissed at him, not sparing him a single look. Bastard.

Riddle didn't look surprised, as if he had been waiting for her to break down and attack him for his violating experiment. "I was merely testing your strength."

"Would you care for a practical demonstration?" She retorted.

Riddle rolled his eyes dramatically as he added the first ingredient. "As if you could every lay a finger on me, Hermione," And then he looked at her, his eyes holding something much more sinister, his voice dropping by octaves. "And even if you do, you will not like the outcome."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"I beg to differ."

"I wasn't aware you were so used to begging. A childhood requirement?"

"I would drop this subject instantly if I were you, '_little bird'_." He said mockingly but seeing the tense jaw and narrowed eyes, she could see he was clearly irritated.

"Well then, that must have hit close to home," Hermione mused. "I've never heard of a Pureblood family by the name of _Riddle_. Have you?" She was being cruel, but she dubbed it as revenge.

Riddle dropped his knife and proceeded to stir the potion four times in an anti-clockwise motion. "Shut the fuck up." He whispered softly, his face blank and calm.

She ignored his cursing, not surprised. She heard it spit from his mouth towards Sebastian and Abraxas many times when they weren't aware she was around. "And here I thought you were more than an idiotic Neanderthal who could form a sentence without a single swear word."

"Need I repeat myself? Shut the – what the fuck are you doing?" He snapped but in a quiet manner, as to not inform Slughorn. He watched with annoyance and surprise as Hermione completely ruined their effort by chucking in a random ingredient. "Are you _insane_? This will tarnish _everything_. You stupid girl. My marks will drop because of this."

Hermione snorted. "No, they won't. This ingredient rids the elixir of its negative effects. Didn't you know that, Riddle?"

"It's Tom."

Hermione's voice dropped as she added the next ingredient and sighed. "Not to me."

Something in his eyes shifted and he tapped his foot restlessly, reaching for his wand. "I see," He said softly and then spared her a glare. "If this costs me a grade, you will pay."

Hermione laughed loudly as she added the last of ingredients, stirred it six times anti-clockwise and waved her wand over the cauldron, preserving the magic within the elixir. To anyone else, they could have looked like a pair of entertained friends. To anyone who knew the true nature of their actual relationship, the scene looked dangerous indeed.

The potion quickly gained a much more bearable and sweet smell and sparkled in a gold manner. Riddle observed this with caution and only mild surprise before scoffing and crossing his arms, looking away in embarrassment and anger. When Slughorn had dubbed their potion as 'perfect', Tom excused himself and stormed out as soon as the lesson had ended, leaving Hermione to laugh once again and Sebastian (who was at the table next to the two students) to snort along with her.

* * *

After the legilimency fiasco with none other than the Devil himself, Hermione had taken to research her 'real' family's history. Hogwarts didn't have a vast collection of family records but Hermione would have to make-do with what she had if she was to remain as authentic as possible.

So far, the witch had found that the Guerra family didn't support arranged marriage and very much so isolated themselves from the customs of the wizarding world, choosing most of the time to have their children taught at home and under the surveillance of their parents and/or caretakers. Because of this, the generations of the Guerra family had led very private lives and had wisely remained Switzerland during any magical war while they continued their bloodline in a different manner to other pureblooded families; the Guerra never mixed bloods with each other, choosing blatantly to show their distaste of incest, no matter how faint.

"Hermione."

The witch wanted to groan aloud and throw her head back. Alas, she maintained a polite smile and looked at the voice that belonged to the man of her nightmares. "Riddle."

Merlin, did his eye really twitch? "I was wondering if you had seen Harry anywhere."

Hermione scoffed, dropping her act and rolling her eyes. Tom would not willingly look for someone by himself. "If you were truly looking for Harry, you would have sent out one of your friends. But for the sake of you dignity, I will pretend your intentions do not have an ulterior motive."

"Excuse me?" He asked softly, his shark-like smile gracing his face. He was already angry and yet – they hadn't even exchanged formalities.

"He's at the Quidditch field. You can see them from here." Hermione then pointed out the arch-like window and at the flying wizards in green robes.

"Your attitude is not one to be desired."

"Your _face_ is not one to be desired." Hermione retorted, slamming her book close and scoffing, returning it to its original place.

Riddle eyed the title of the book before smirking, the notion not making his face any uglier. "Oh, please. I'm sure you're thrilled to be my Potion's partner this semester."

This made Hermione twitch, remembering the announcement Slughorn had made after Tom had left the classroom. "Ugh, don't remind me. I may just vomit."

"How lady-like of you."

"At least I act human half the time, Riddle." She spat and crossed her arms.

The wizard already had his wand out when his smile dropped and it was replaced with narrowed eyes and a scowl. "What is that supposed to mean? I would be very careful if I were you – many students had already left for dinner."

"I am not afraid of you." She said softly and with such underlying anger, it made her blink as she regained her composure. "And I have nothing to hide from you."

"Then why so paranoid?"

"Why so suspicious?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, half-way turning away from her. "Do you answer _every_ question with one of your own?"

"I don't know – do I?"

He clenched his fists and glared at her. "You're testing my patience, woman."

"Then stay out of my head!" She yelled finally, and did the most stupidly insane thing she could do. She pushed him.

Tom fell backwards into the closest bookcase and his expression of rage and surprise showed Hermione he hadn't been expecting her to try to harm him physically, with her own bare hands. His expression quickly changed and he grabbed her extended hands and pulled her closer, his threatening expression getting darker by the second.

Fear enveloped Hermione and she trembled ever so slightly.

"What are you hiding?" He whispered softly, watching over her face in the same manner he had in the common room days before. His hold on her lessened but his thumbs remained pressed into her wrists to keep her from escaping. However, his gaze was much more gentle when he spoke again. "_Why_ would you get so defensive if you claim you have nothing to hide?"

Answering him in the same tone, Hermione shivered as his warm breath fanned over her nose. _How could he be so warm if he was so evil_? "Because it is only respectful and _humane_ to stay out of someone's head. I have not done anything to you. Why are you treating me like they would a heinous criminal?"

He stayed silent for only a second. "I've been treating you exactly the same as you've been treating me." He stated and oh – _oh_, it was so true.

And then he let go of her. Hermione knew that if she was one of his lackeys, he would be torturing her by now. Instead, he stepped around her and his hand found his hair as Hermione spoke. "I wasn't aware I was treating you that badly."

He looked frustrated. He looked _so damn human_ in this moment and it made Hermione falter in her mission to hurt him emotionally. He smiled then, but it was fake. "Well, you – don't worry, actually. I'm uh – sorry for doing that. I should not have invaded the privacy of your mind."

Hermione 'Guerra' Granger blinked up at the Headboy and shifted uneasily, suddenly feeling very guilty for attempting to harm him physically.

And then, Tom walked away as Hermione remained blissfully unaware of the wicked smirk the boy held on his face.

* * *

**How did you like this chapter? Tell me in your reviews. Chapter 6 will be posted when I receive 10 reviews (I am rather put off by the amount of favs and follows and with almost no one reviewing tbh). Cheers! x**


	6. in which there is an enemy

**Background Music: **Words by Skylar Grey

**Act VI  
**

* * *

September 30th, 1944

**HERMIONE**

* * *

After their altercation in the library over a week before, Hermione and Tom found themselves behaving in a civil manner towards one another. The witch realized that day in the library that treating him in such a hostile way didn't earn her any brownies.

Dumbledore specifically requested that they should attempt change or distract him, and in order to do that, they would have to befriend him. Harry, of course, had no trouble merging himself into the Devil spawn's group but Hermione found the Heabdoy so, so – _incredibly infuriating_ and smug and arrogant and manipulative and – Merlin, he was a nightmare. How could any of those blubberingly idiotic girls stand his presence, much less follow him around like a flock of wounded birds?

But – Hermione knew the answer. He was beautiful. Just like the devil, he manipulated his peers with carefully chosen words and angelic looks and endless but empty promises. He charmed anyone and everyone without any real efforts on his part.

The witch sighed, knowing she should attempt to stop referring to him as the spawn of Satan, as she knew for a fact she would speak it aloud one of these days.

"Hermione?" He asks, lowering his head to level with hers. He didn't even need to look ahead of him to know he wouldn't step in someone's path. The hallways was parting for them as if they were imitating the Red Seas. "Are you off in your own little world again?"

She spared him a glare. "I am exhausted, Riddle. Sebastian wouldn't let me go to bed until four a.m."

Noticing the scowl on his face when she mentioned her friend made her smile secretly. "And what exactly was keeping you up to such an hour?"

"Sebastian needed help with homework. He's falling behind because of Quidditch." She stated clearly, because it was _true_. She didn't mention the countless of suggestive remarks Sebastian let loose last night. Hermione knew it was all in good nature, of course. Sebastian was a friend and his crush that he admitted to weeks ago was long gone. He was betrothed already either way.

"I bet he did," Riddle spoke lowly, rolling his eyes. "No matter, he needs to keep his grades up if he wants to stay on the team. Merlin knows he's the only average-skilled keeper Slytherin has had in years."

"I wasn't aware you were so interested in Quidditch."

He looked at her just before they entered Transfiguration and smiled wickedly. "Whatever my house is involved in is _always_ of interest to me."

They took their usual seat beside Harry and Sebastian suddenly came back to life when he saw her sit down in front of him. Lestrange rolled his eyes and brushed his long, wavy hair out of his eyes but sent her a polite smile.

"I handed in my potions essay before breakfast and Slughorn graded it on the spot," He said impatiently. Hermione amusedly compared him to a hyperactive puppy in her head and smiled. "I got an E! That's almost an O, little bird."

Hermione laughed. "I know, Sebastian."

Riddle rolled his eyes. "I fail to see why an E could make you so happy. After all, it's only _barely_ above average."

Sebastian lost his excited smile and shifted his eyes to the side awkwardly. Hermione wanted to speak up and defend her friend but Harry warningly pinched her wrist to keep her from starting an unnecessary fight right before class.

"Git." Hermione muttered and huffed but didn't receive an answer as Riddle unpacked his equipment and spared Sebastian a patronizing glare. When she turned back to her friend, she patted his hand and smiled widely. "That essay was difficult. I only just barely got an O and I'm usually very well informed in the subject."

"You're well informed in _every_ subject, Hermione. You're fucking brilliant." He said and Lestrange rolled his eyes _again_ but nodded in agreement.

Hermione blushed because, well – the statement came from a boy who _adored_ her (as a friend, no less) and did his best to make her smile at least once during each lesson they shared. Even with his perverted and suggestive nature, Sebastian was a sweet boy and a very caring friend and this reminded her of Ron and – Hermione stopped her train of thoughts.

What happened _with_ and _to_ Ron was something she could not afford to think about in the presence of Lord Voldemort himself. Hermione had made sure to never wonder about her previous life – it was dangerous. It could get her _killed_.

The lesson with Professor Dumbledore passed without a hitch and he left them with no essays or homework as he claimed they should enjoy their day outside during the strangely warm and sunny day. Harry and Hermione wisely ignored his curious stares as they had for weeks now. Dumbledore searching their minds would be almost as bad as Voldemort having his disgusting and heinous ways with them.

As soon as she walked into the hallways, she felt an arm at her elbow, guiding her away from the quickly crowding hallway and outside onto the still-green lawn. It was lunch for the next hour and so they had time to speak.

"I've been trying to get you alone for over a week." Harry said and watched as a group of girls passed them before he turned to her.

"I know," Hermione sighed, running her hand across her face. "I completely forgot. I am so sorry, Harry. What did you want to talk about?"

He lowered his voice. "You need to be careful with Riddle."

"I _am_, Harry," No, she wasn't. She really, really was not. "Harry – have you perhaps had any luck finding out about the Deatheaters? Sebastian isn't the smartest wizard but he hasn't let anything slip yet."

Harry kept silent for a moment, as if thinking carefully about his response. "They – no, I haven't. It's as if they never existed at all but sometimes, Dolohov or Avery would say something idiotic about a Mud – sorry, Muggleborn and the others would laugh and mention something from the past but I can't be sure. They're very secretive."

Hermione watched him as he spat out his words with disdain and anger clearly displayed on his face. "Harry," She began carefully, looking away. "You must understand that you need to keep your composure around Riddle. He isn't the Voldemort we know. Not yet, at least."

He scoffed. "Have you _seen_ how you treat him? It's a wonder he hasn't hurt you yet."

"It's different."

"How?"

"It's natural for us, Harry," She explained. "Think of it as the same sort of rivalry I had with Draco for _years_. We're competitors for the best ranking and well – it would be obvious who it would be if someone hurt me. Up until now, everyone has seen how badly we've been treating each other. He would be dubbed as suspicious." She said softly, looking at the scenery before them.

Harry steered her face towards his, making sure they made eye contact. "Be _safe_, Hermione. You are the brains of this task. _You_."

Hermione nodded and then Harry smiled as he steered them towards the Great Hall for lunch, where Hermione proceeded to sleep for over an hour, completely forgetting that she did _not_, in fact have a free period afterwards.

* * *

"Worthless gits!" Hermione muttered angrily, already forming a plan of vengeance as she attempted to run faster towards the dungeons where her Potions class was held.

After falling asleep in the Great Hall during lunch, no boys – not even _Druella_ attempted to wake her for her next class. They simply left her to embarrass herself and tarnish her clean reputation. Oh, Harry would will feel pain when she has the chance to have a go at him.

Without searching her surroundings and ignoring the incredulous looks Professors were giving her at her un-ladylike pace, she bumped into a very hard chest and proceeded to fall to the floor. Her head momentarily ached from the impact and her world spun but when she came to, she recognized the unimpressed face of Dolohov.

"What a horrendous position for a Pureblood witch to be in," He spoke and watched as she gathered her text books and writing equipment. "Pathetic, really." He glared at her once before walking away calmly, as if he was expecting her not to hex him with his back turned.

"Bloody arse." She retorted, hoping he would hear her. If he did, he didn't do anything. Hermione continued in her run to make it to her class.

The door was already shut and she heard students speaking about inside so she knocked politely and walked inside, seeing a confused but then amused Slughorn in the middle of the classroom.

"Hermione! How lovely of you to join us – Oh, no! I didn't mean it in a derogatory way, my dear. I am not going to be cross with you for being sick."

A few girls snickered and Riddle hid a smile as Slughorn had obviously pointed out her bushy hair and bloodshot eyes. She gritted her teeth but managed to smile as she spoke. "I didn't get much sleep last night, Sir. I took a nap in the great hall and – well, my _friends_ forgot to alert me of the end of the meal."

"Oh, no matter, no matter. There is no need of informing the class of you late-night shenanigans."

Hermione blinked and gasped. "I – _excuse me_?"

Slughorn laughed as did other students. "I was only making humorous retort. Really, Miss Guerra – I did not mean to embarrass you."

Hermione sighed, giving up on the conversation. "No, Sir. It's alright, you didn't embarrass me. I'm only tire – never mind, actually." She cut her own sentence off as Sebastian and a few other boys snickered.

She took her regular place at Riddle's table and watched his movements to analyse which Potion they were brewing.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione wanted to be angry with him but buggering hell – he didn't even look like he was teasing her. He was asking her a genuine question so she sighed and attempted to fix her hair. "Yes, I suppose."

He looked at her briefly before he turned back to her as he stirred the cauldron. "We assumed you'd like to catch up on your sleep."

She glared at him which only made him smile his shark-like grin. "It isn't that."

His smile dropped slowly and he shifted closer to her, dropping his voice. "Then what is it?"

She looked around and bit the very corner of her lip, aware of Riddle's eyes travelling over her face and resting on the exact spot she was running her teeth along. Then, Hermione looked up and watched as Riddle lowered his head sideways, as if she was about to share a secret with him. "I – I'm not stupid, I know that he doesn't seem keen to have me around and I don't know why but – it's just – does Dolohov _hate_ me?"

Tom went very still and Hermione watched as he stared ahead of them, focusing his gaze on Sebastian who seemed to sense it and stopped grinning, his expression turning serious. Hermione blinked at the exchange and released a gust of air she didn't realize she was holding.

"What happened?" He asked gently but she could hear the underlying order in his question. It made her feel unsafe – this tone of voice always equalled to danger.

"I bumped into him and well – he was just rude," Hermione said and was further confused when Sebastian still stared at them. "I've just noticed that he's always moody and angry when I am around."

"That's just Dolohov, Hermione. Don't waste your time worrying about his atrocious behaviour. He doesn't like _anyone_."

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "He still pushed me. He must have seen me. How else would he bump into me if he wasn't even coming from the opposite direction?"

He went still and his lips thinned as his eyes narrowed, but not at her. She was staring at their finished potion with concentration. "It won't happen again, Hermione."

"Alright." She sighed, having the feeling she just witnessed her very first Lord Voldemort and Deatheater interaction between Riddle and Sebastian.

* * *

Once again in the same day, Hermione ran towards the dungeons. Only this time, it was to make it back to her common room before the curfew which was about to strike in only a few minutes. The stairs had faithfully all aligned for her as if sensing her fear of being in trouble or being caught by a Professor (it was uncanny of a witch to by tardy in this decade – insert sarcastic snort here) and she thanked the Gods for this small feat.

She heard the shuffling of feat in the darkness and frowned, but decided to ignore it. It could very well be the portraits trying to scare her off and Hermione simply didn't have the time to curse them in the present time. Instead, she ran for the last flight of stairs and gasped suddenly when she lost her footing.

Except, it was not her doing because her tight grip of the railing was mechanically ripped away from her and she felt determined and rough hands at the small of her back, throwing her out of balance and down the stone steps. Her head sharply hit the bottom of the landing.

In that singular moment, blackness was everything.

* * *

**Hello, lovelies! Here is another chapter, as promised. And to the reviewer who claimed I was holding my chapters hostage for reviews and claimed their distaste – I didn't mean to offend you or anyone else. I failed to mention that I become inspired and naturally write faster if I receive reviews, as does any other author. I am so sorry if I offended anyone. I simply love reading your positive and wonderful reviews! They help me post faster. Let's get this story to 75 reviews? (I will post even if it **_**doesn't**_** reach the desired number, but feedback from my lovely readers really does make my day!)**


	7. in which there is fear

**Background Music: **The Blower's Daughter by Damien Rice

**Act VII**

* * *

September 30th, 1944

**HERMIONE**

* * *

Like a bludger to the head, pain hits Hermione with an unbearable force. She feels heat in her legs and she lifts her head and as her shaking hand reaches to search for her wand, the events flood back to her. Perhaps the memory of her tumbling (ungracefully) down the stairs hurt far more than the numbing pain in her ankle.

How could she – why would she – she was so _stupid_. How could she be so reckless? How could she – the pain was expanding towards her knee as she tried to sit up.

"Accio wand!" She yelled but it was futile. Her wand wasn't – her wand was taken and it wasn't here and as Hermione's eyes widened in panic, she realized it was a planned attack. "Accio wa – wand." She tried again. Alas, nothing.

Nothing. Blackness. Black spots. Sharp pain – she couldn't even send a patronus to Harr – _Harry_! Was _Harry _alright? Where was – Merlin.

Hermione wondered of a way to alert anyone – even the scheming, manipulative and cunning Dumbledore but she knew that this attack would bring attention to the twins and attention was something they could not afford. Not in this time. It would be a straight ticket to the death row if someone found them to be imposters – but then again, could they be acting as imposters if they weren't portraying anyone?

The Guerra were not known to have _any_ children of their age and well, their story was actually quiet laughable. It was a wonder anyone believed them. It was a wonder that Tom – _Tom_.

Riddle.

Riddle did this.

There was no other way – Riddle knew. He _knew_.

Riddle took her wand and – _oh Yule_.

As fear crept along her spine and childish tears filled her eyes, she began to crawl away. She could hear footsteps and the shadowing arch close to her would provide her safety in the form of camouflage. At least she hoped it would.

But before she could find her safety – her safe haven – a voice called out her name in confusion.

She recognized it. Devil child comes this way.

She put on a blank mask as he reached her and he laid a warm hand on her back. She could feel it. She could feel the evidence of warm, human, _real_ blood rushing through his veins and pumping his heart and oxygenating his brain and – how was he so _human_?

"Hermione," He said more firmly but his hold on her didn't tighten. He attempted to turn her over to look at her face as Hermione cowardly released a whimper of fear. "I am not going to harm you. Don't be frightened, love."

The nickname made her shiver and Hermione hated herself. She hated herself for relaxing to his touch. She allowed him spin her to face him and once he noticed the busted lip, bruised cheek and twisted ankle, his expression darkened visibly.

Tom did this. He had to do it. He was the only – he was walking around by himself. No one was here. No one but him. What was he – was he hoping to play some knight in shining armour? To have her be in his debt? What was he – He did this. Had _had_ to have done it.

"Do you know who – I mean – what happened?" He said, stuttering out barely comprehensible words through clenched teeth and shut eye lids.

Hermione only briefly watched his face before looking down. "No – I tried to heal myself but my wand – and they pushed me down the last flight of stairs – I – T-tom."

He opened his eyes when she spoke his name, sceptical but also acutely amused at her using his first name to gather his attention. She could see this.

His hand reached out as if to soothe the bleeding on her lips but he pulled back when he noticed Hermione's frightened expression and she allowed herself a slow and deep breath when he let his hand dangle to his side. For a moment Hermione thought he was going to hex her when he reached for his wand, but instead, he healed the small bruise on her face and magically stitched her bleeding lip.

"It will leave a scar," he stated and then shrugged sheepishly. "But I'm afraid that I'm not very well informed in healing magic."

Lie.

Lie. Lie – she almost frowned but stopped herself. Tom was concerned; she could see it but that doesn't mean he should be ruled out as a possible suspect. After all, who else would have done it? But then – _why_ would he do it?

"Can you – I should be taken to the nurse. I would heal myself with my wand but I don't have it." Merlin, did she felt useless.

"No worries, love. I'll take you to my personal common room. It's just around the corner and the infirmary is across the entire castle and well – there is a chance we could be attacked on the way."

"I'm sure you would find a way to defend yourself. I've seen your duelling skills."

"And what would you do? Throw pebbles? Hermione – be reasonable."

She huffed, crossing her arms. She wished she could kick him away with her feet.

And then his arms reached around her body and he picked her up effortlessly. She wondered why he didn't simply use a levitating charm but as soon as her head rested against his toned shoulder, her eyes fluttered close and the weight was lifted completely off her chest. Oh yes, she definitely hated herself. How could she allow her guard to completely evaporate when she was in the arms of the future Dark Lord? The boy who had already named himself Lord Voldemort?

He was – _why_ did he feel so human? Why did he feel so much like _Ron_, with his defined chest and toned arms and warmth – warmth which could only be emitted by a human being?

The thought of Ron and his last moments before falling into an irreversible coma made her tighten her lips against her teeth. If she cried now, Tom would know something else was going on and well – she wasn't a good liar while he was the master of manipulation.

Damn Riddle.

Damn Riddle and his large but elegant hands currently gripping her waist through her thin robes and – Merlin.

He knew just what to do to get under her skin.

They reached a portrait and he murmured a password that she couldn't understand but she knew it vaguely sounded like a Latin word. She wasn't surprised – Riddle was a genius no matter how evil and how black his soul was.

When it swung open, Hermione was surprised not to see anything silver or green. Instead, she was exposed to varying hues of neutral light blue, grey and black; each object in the common room was very elegant and sophisticated – much like Riddle himself.

"What a pleasure it was to hear you say my name." He noted softly and smirked in a patronizing way when she glared at him. But his face was too close to hers for it to have any threatening effect and so she only sighed, crossing her arms tighter across her chest.

She didn't understand why he was so anal about her calling him by what his future self hated. Voldemort hated his father and he hated muggles and he hated his real name. So why was he so frustrated whenever she didn't call him by his real first name?

Damn Riddle.

He set her down on his couch and laid her feet gently on the dark coffee table before opening the fridge in the little kitchenette and procuring an icepack. He laid it on her foot and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I will inform Dippet – "

"No!" Hermione snapped quickly to which Tom only arched his brow. "I-I mean – I don't want to give the attacker any satisfaction. I rather deal with it personally."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"_We_? Oh, no – no. I will do it myself."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. He oddly reminded her of the ever-sarcastic Draco Malfoy but when he connected their gazes and his very dark blue eyes penetrated hers, he reminded her of the Tom Riddle she met in the Great Hall a month ago. "You can't walk and you have no wand. I bet that would impress your attacker."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'd appreciate it if you would stop with the patronizing sarcasm. I'm not in a very happy state right now."

"Are you ever?" He murmured to himself and Hermione wrapped her hand around the closest item (which turned out to be a cushion) and pegged it at his pale face. When the cushion hit the ground, he didn't look very amused but he still grinned. "Well that only caused you more harm that it did me."

He was right. The motion allowed pain to ripple through her entire body and all Hermione could do, once again, was glare at him. And then his trained mask left his face and his elegant features looked mildly concerned.

"What?" She snapped.

He pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing at the Oriental rug gracing the cold floor. "I'm simply wondering about how to identify your attacker, little bird."

When Sebastian called her that, it made her laugh and feel adored. When Tom called her by the endearment, it made her feel unpredictable.

"Do you – what about Dolohov?" She whispered after what felt like an eternity and she saw the darkness instantly creeping on Riddle's face. His nostrils flared ever so slightly and his hands tightened in his pockets.

He turned away from her, muttering to himself. She heard something alike 'fucking Dolohov' and 'inbred fuckwit' but she decided to not comment as Riddle was positively fuming. Again, she could be wrong but Dolohov didn't seem to like her at all and he seemed to be the only logical option.

Hermione was very aware that being in such close proximity with Riddle while she was wounded and exhausted was a mistake and the worse predicament she could ever find herself in but the warmth of his hands still lingering on her waist and the soft couch made her eyes flutter shut.

She left them shut as she heard his footstep linger around her sleeping form. She wasn't asleep yet but her body was physically and mentally exhausted. She heard an almost inaudible sigh, so soft she could have imagined her.

Tom must have thought she was already asleep because he spoke to himself softly, his voice warm and heart-wrenching and _human_ and – why? Why did her palms sweat and why did she gulp? "Merlin… I will – Dolohov…"

She felt the feathery touch of a finger run down her forehead and the bridge of her nose, lingering gently on her swollen lip.

His hand trembled.

Her heart fluttered.

"Fuck." Tom said sharply as if he was admitting something to himself.

And then her thoughts pulled her into deep slumber. She faintly heard the entrance door shut softly as she entered the world of dreams.

* * *

**Wow, so Tom's and Hermione's relationship seems to progressing! I'm trying very hard for their feelings to not approach them too fast and trying to keep it as realistic as I possibly can. I'm sorry for the long wait! University is very demanding and time-consuming but I've got the entire story planned out, chapter by chapter so I will never have a reason to abandon this story. Feedback would be amazing! Cheers x**


	8. in which there is pain

**Background Music: **Between The Bars by Elliot Smith

**Act VIII  
**

* * *

September 31st, 1944

**TOM**

* * *

Tom was careful as to not alert the portraits with the incessant cracking of his knuckles. When he switched to tracing half-moons into the palm of his hand with his neatly trimmed nails, the anger he was trying to desperately hide was beginning to subside.

But –

The fury licked at his throat, begging to be released. His magic was barely contained as he gripped his beloved wand so tightly, it was a wonder his fingers didn't snap off. A need to release his anger was driving him absolutely furious right into crazed desperation.

Dolohov – he was a fucking – Merlin. The boy was going to be begging on his knees by the time he was done with him tonight.

A silencing charm was placed on the private study room in the corner of the library as soon as he entered the sanctuary filled with precious texts and knowledge; Tom didn't spare them a glance.

He was intent on murdering the bigot.

"Tom." Avery spoke with respect but as always, an easy smile crossed his face – although it was slightly strained. As he looked around the semi-circle, he saw the frightened faces and shaking hands. It was common knowledge among the group that Tom only called random meetings when someone was in trouble.

As soon as his eyes rested on the symmetrical face of Antonin Dolohov, Tom's rage returned like a vastly growing Fiendfyre. He looked unsuspecting when the Crucio curse hit him like an arrow aimed specifically at the centre of his chest.

His followers looked away, trained like dogs for a cause except for Avery, who was watching the cold face of their leader.

When the curse ended, Dolohov crawled away, spluttering like a fish begging to be released back into water. It was his first time being tortured by the hands of Tom Riddle. His body still underwent random physical shocks and twitches and Tom wanted to smirk triumphantly but he was far from done.

"I found Hermione Guerra injured a few minutes after curfew. It is only common knowledge that you, Dolohov, hold a hatred for the twins."

"I don't – d – Tom," He tried to speak but he was shivering violently and his face was growing green from nausea. "I didn't. I swear to Merlin – please, please, _please_ – I didn't do it! I didn't!"

Dolohov looked much like a child at this moment – only freshly turned 15. "You violated her earlier in the day, did you not?"

Dolohov shook his head before he stopped, his gaze becoming more alarmed. "Well I – she bumped into me, I – it wasn't on purpose Tom. Honest."

"And why, do tell, did you not help her up? Hermione is a lady and you treated her like dirt."

Dolohov fell silent as Tom's gaze scrutinized him. "Why do you care about her so much? She's nothing special."

Tom's eyes shifted to Avery who looked up sharply, most likely about to defend his friend but his lips were pressed tightly together. He knew not to cross Tom and his growing dislike for their friendship. Alas, Tom was partly grateful for their alliance, of sort. It allowed him to be in close vicinity of the girl and her wondrous talents.

"Why do you resent her?" Tom questioned and watched for any expression to appear on Dolohov's face.

"I did not attack her." Blank face. Twitching hand.

"I see. Then who did?"

Lestrange spoke up. "I don't understand why you have such a fixation on her, Tom. She's an ordinary witch. This is no place for a person of her gender." Ever the sexist provocateur spoke.

"I am above such thinking, Lestrange. I think witches can be as powerful as wizards – even more so," Tom said, stepping around Dolohov's crumpled body, watching with satisfaction as he winced away from him. "But I am not trying to lure the girl into our group… I am much more interested in Harry Guerra in that department."

The followers all looked at him – he could feel their gazes burning into his back as he looked out at the grounds from the arch-like window.

"Then why are you acting out for the girl being hurt?" Lestrange asked.

"I believe in order to gain Harry's trust, we need Hermione's respect. The boy twin doesn't do _anything_ without agreeing with the girl first. They have a bond. It would be much easier to get to the girl first."

"Is that all? Is that why you're angry?" Dolohov asked and stood up, trying in vain to restore his dignity.

Tom smirked but it was strained because in that singular moment, he realized he was about to lie. The question his him like a brick – _did_ he care for any other reason?

He couldn't – no. Guerra was – she was nothing. She was a distraction. Her sharp tongue and bouncy curls and short skirts were a distra – were unnerving. Interesting.

Yes – she was only a distraction.

They only needed Harry. She was disposable.

"Of course. What other reason could there be?" He snapped, turning furious. "I don't care for the girl – _she is only a pawn_."

Avery didn't look convinced. Tom ignored him.

"He was with me." Nott said from a corner. His unpleasant face was distorted by the darkness.

Tom rose an eyebrown. "Who, Dolohov?"

Nott nodded.

And with that, the meeting was over. Tom made sure not to forget to not apologize to Dolohov who was still oddly twitching as he stormed outside of the library. Truth be told, he was hoping it would be one of his followers. It would be much easier to punish them.

Hermione Guerra had enemies outside of his control.

Someone was working _against_ his wishes.

That simply wouldn't do.

* * *

Tom was sitting across from the girl whose hair had gone tragically frizzy in the past hour that he was gone. His diary was flipped open to a clean page which he was staring at for minutes before he could think of a topic to write about.

How strange. So much has happened this past night and morning and he had nothing to write about. All he could think about was the injured girl laying on his sofa and her strange combination of dark, medium and light hair colours.

Her mouth was parted, her freckles dusted adoringly over her face and – and shit. Her eyelashes looked so long and gentle that he almost broke his own hand to keep himself from touching them.

She was so fascinating. His gaze wandered back to her mouth and to keep his mind from wandering into forbidden sections of his mind, he began to write.

About her.

_She was_ – he flipped through his pages and saw numerous pages filled with thoughts of the girl and her strange behaviour and alien words and amazing talents and knowledge and – what was he _doing_?

He was becoming _obsessed_. And yet, what a wonderful thing she was to obsess over.

Fuck – he was becoming to sound like a Friday night molester waiting for any indication that the girl wanted him.

He shut his eyes. He couldn't look at her. She was so basic and plain and – she was fascinating. She was – she was – _extraordinary. _His eyes wandered from the clenched hands places on her lap to the her knees where her black robes parted and to the small feet laying on the coffee table.

The coffee table – her _wand_. Her wand was laying neatly on the coffee table. How had he not _noticed_? There was a note laying there too and he quickly ran to the unconscious girl, checking her pulse and releasing a sigh of relief when he felt the gentle strum of her heartbeat.

His fingertips rested on her neck for a moment too long before he decided to wake her. Gently, he shook her shoulder and cleared his throat.

Hermione opened her eyes and she was shocked to see him only for a second before she realized her surroundings and swallowed, wincing when she saw her foot.

And then her eyes fixated themselves on her wand and the note and she lunged forward, ignoring her injured limb.

She opened the note, her face becoming very blank and very white. "Leave, or else. Signed, your worst enemy."

Tom knocked the coffee table over.

* * *

**Hello, my lovely readers! I am loving the response! How did you like this chapter? It was more of a filler but I am slowly progressing Tom's attraction to Hermione and having him **_**realize**_** just what exactly attraction is. I hope you are liking the progress. Cheers xo**


	9. in which there is heat: part I

**Background Music: **Take Me To Church by Hozier

**Act IX**

* * *

October 17th, 1944

**TOM**

* * *

Tom Riddle was enjoying his current predicament.

Defensive spells and mild curses sounded through-out the afternoon class as Tom, Sebastian and Harry versed Hermione and two Gryffindors in their Defence Against Dark Arts class.

Tom, as always, scoffed at the name of the class. There was absolutely no _need_ to defend oneself against Dark Arts. _Embracing_ the wider horizon would be much more efficient and clever. However, he knew if he was to express his opinion, it would only land him a one-way ticket to the notorious and shiver-inducing prison of Azkaban.

Alas, the class wasn't completely laughable purely based on the fact that he was currently sending tricky spells at his counterpart and duel partner, Hermione Guerra.

Brilliant, eye-roll-inducing, self-righteous Hermione Guerra and her questionable skirts and superior scoffs. He wanted to unleash his full power on the witch but that would, indeed, be very foolish. Instead, he send her curses and hexes which only sometimes made his professor eye him cautiously and cause his duel partner to call out: "That curse is barely legal!" or "The point of this task is to _learn_ from your enemies mistakes, not chop their head off with a slashing hex, Riddle!".

Ah, yes. He was most definitely enjoying himself.

Tom also found that if he called out 'Expelliarmus' unexpectedly, it would cause Hermione to roll her amber eyes, bend over to grab her wand and unconsciously flash him the flesh hiding behind her skirt and _what a wondrous sight that was, _indeed.

He sighed. He was acting like Avery. Damn Avery.

Damn Hermione Guerra to the seventh ring of hell and beyond.

If the girl wasn't as skilled in duelling as she currently was, the session would become very boring and very pointless but alas, her skills could rival even the best of student duellists at Hogwarts. Tom could only imagine how far she could get if they had the freedom to use more notorious curses and hexes as the witch was very clearly holding back.

She was fascinating, hiding her true skills like that. Tom could see right through her little act of innocence and fake laughter and by the way her hand shook as she held her wand, he could also see right through the imbecile act she put up to fool those around her.

At least she could _pretend_ to be dumb; which is more than he could say for other witches currently trying their hardest to find themselves to be 'accidentally' in his personal space.

Hermione had noticed this long ago and so when she rolled her eyes at the desperate witches, he unexpectedly cast another disarming charm and summoned the wand to his hand, watching as Hermione groaned in annoyance at his actions.

"Can't you take this lesson seriously, Riddle?"

"Tom." He corrected her patiently to which she scoffed, just as he predicted she would.

"You're a nuisance, Tom Riddle."

He allowed himself a chuckle. The witch was amusing. "Come and get your wand and we'll continue this pointless duel."

He was aware of Avery and Harry watching them, both wearing different expressions. While Avery looked amused and completely unsurprised, the twin looked simply annoyed.

Hermione reached him sooner than he'd think and just as she reached for her beloved wand, he hung it higher and chuckled again when the witch crossed her arms and a cross expression returned to her face.

"Don't be a prat, Riddle!"

"What was that?"

"Don't be an _arse_, Tom."

"Ah, _okay_. You ruin my fun, Hermione. I'm thinking that _you're_ the nuisance in this conversation." She aimed higher when she jumped this time and it made her skirt flare up. She blushed furiously when she caught Tom looking.

"Pig!" A foot stamped down on his and he clenched his teeth, suddenly being brought back to reality.

What was he _doing_? Flirting with the girl? What – why – _Merlin_. He was turning into a fool.

Alas, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering to her legs and the shape of her body as she walked away from him with her wand back in her possession.

"Alright, Tom?" Avery asked, mocking his state.

Tom Riddle did not blush. "Sod off."

Avery laughed as Hermione observed them closely and then sent a nasty jinx at Tom's head.

Tom Riddle did not blush and he most certainly did not write a diary entry about one annoying and brilliant witch during his entire lunch hour.

Definitely not.

* * *

**HERMIONE**

* * *

As Hermione's feet carried her towards her last class of the day, her mind began to wander unconsciously and she felt very, _very_ conflicted.

She was told by Harry and other people numerous times, over and over and over again that Voldemort was a _bad_ person. That he was a sociopath who felt no compassion, no love, no sympathy for _anyone_ and that he never, ever had the ability to.

But if that was true (and for the sake of her sanity, Hermione prayed to Yule it was) then how could he laugh so charmingly? How could he blush so softly and how could he _not_ hex Avery whenever the latter teased him or said something argumentative?

He was not the Voldemort she was told about.

He wasn't – he was _Tom Riddle_. He was yet to _turn_ into Voldemort. And what was that Dumbledore told them? Ah, of course – their mission was to distract him. To change him.

But what did that entail? Did that suddenly make it okay for Hermione's heart to race at the thought of his fingers on her face two weeks ago? Did it make it okay for her to tremble when she imagined his intoxicating aftershave and how although he was painted as a sociopathic monster, he touched her as if she was the most gentle object he could and ever would touch? She didn't even want to think about what _that_ meant to him – what it meant for _him_ to touch her so tenderly.

If everything she had been told was true, then Riddle was definitely acting out of character.

"Oi, Hermione, hold up!" A voice called out and a flash of blonde hair made her grimace and sigh at the same time. "Let me carry that for you. You have Transfiguration, yeah?"

"Yes," She answered and then eyed him, trying in vain for her voice to remain friendly. "How did you know?"

"Oh, just noticed you had the same classes with Tom. What a shame it is I'm stuck in sixth year; I'd be walking you to every class."

Hermione cleared her throat, trying not to laugh. What a shame Draco Malfoy didn't accompany them to the past. He would be having a heart attack just about now. "What a shame it is."

Abraxas grinned then and he looked so innocent and pure and _darn it_ – how did he ever get himself caught up in the pureblood supremacy mania?

She saw Sebastian walking towards them as if he was looking for her and when he saw her, he relaxed visibly, easing his strained smile into his usual easy-going grin. "There's our girl."

Tom who was standing by their classroom along with Harry, the two looking oddly uncomfortable, looked up and eyed Abraxas before he nodded in acknowledgement.

Ever since her attack, they have been watching her around the clock. She begged Harry not to tell Dippet nor any other authorities as it would only bring attention to them and it would not do well to their reputations if they were found to be frauds.

"Boys, really. I can take care of myself," Tom snorted uncharacteristically and then raised a brow when Avery looked between the two uncomfortably, as if knowing picking a side would not do well for his own person. "It is broad daylight, _Tom_."

Seeing her stress out his name made him narrow his eyes at her but then the ever-charming smile was back on his face – shark-like grin grinding her gears to the notch. Frustrating brat.

"Alright. However, it is only proper for a lady to have an escort to her classes."

"I can have _Druella_ take me."

"Ella can barely cast a curse. She's more of a defensive witch."

"So? I can cast curses just fine. Or was that stinging hex not example enough? Would you like another demonstration?"

Tom tsk'd, stepping closer to the witch. His presence was unnerving. She didn't know whether she was blushing from their closeness or the warmth emitting from his chest. "Duelling in corridors is punishable by detention _and_ suspension."

"I know."

"Sure." And then he grinned crookedly and spun around, entering the classroom again.

Damn Riddle. Complete nuisance.

* * *

Hermione had taken a trip to the library after her lesson with Albus Dumbledore to take out an interesting book about time travel (which she cleverly disguised as a regular school notepad) and entered the common room.

What she once thought was cold and sinister was growing on her and she welcomed the green colours and plush sofa's and enchanted fireplace.

If only she could spend more time in the popular room without Riddle and his cronies breathing down her neck. Even Harry was purposefully annoying her these days, as if he wasn't taking his mission seriously at all.

Judging by the hand on Druella's shoulder, he wasn't taking his mission seriously _at all_.

She looked to the occupied chair by the fireplace where a certain Headboy sat. He held his chin in one hand and had the other hand wrapped around his chest, one leg elegantly draped over the other.

If he wasn't a complete prat, Hermione would be able to see why he was so popular among the female (and even _male_) population of Hogwarts. But even now, as he watched her with such curiosity and _determination_, even she could not deny that he was very handsome.

His lips thinned but his eyes stayed on hers, never blinking – never giving anyone a sparing glance. It was _him_. _This_ was Tom Riddle. The boy who was leaning forward to watch her more carefully, the boy who was clenching his fists and narrowing his eyes and sighing as if she was some complex puzzle he could never figure out.

He was looking at her so intensely with an entirely delicious sinister look in his dark, dark blue eyes_. _Soon, her feet are moving towards him and like a slap to the face, she is shook out of trance and she stops.

She shakes her head suddenly, her breathing shaky and fragile as she turns to leave the room. As soon as she turns towards the girl dorms, Sebastian stops her. What would have _happened_ is she joined him? What was he _doing_ to her?

What was she _thinking_?

"You coming to Hogsmeade tomorrow, little bird?"

She clears her throat, avoiding Tom's heated gaze and the way his disappointment showed on his face and turns to her best friend. "Of course. I can hardly wait."

Sebastian sensed her monotone voice but he didn't comment, knowing it would make her uncomfortable. "Right, I'll be waiting at eight then. Are you off to bed? It's only five."

She nodded. "Tired."

He snorted and Tom turned around, facing the rest of his cronies, clearly agitated by her ignoring him. Even Harry looked surprised that they weren't continuing or starting another spat-fest that only ended in both parties unhappy with their insults and screaming.

What was he _doing_ to her?

"I'm looking forward to Hogsmeade, Sebastian," she turned to Harry. "I'll see you at dinner, maybe. I have some studying to do."

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled. "Of course. When are you _not_ studying?"

A playful glare is sent his way and Druella stands from the couch, walking towards the girl. "I'll join you, Hermione. I _desperately_ need advice on what to wear tomorrow!"

The two girls walk off, leaving behind a dumbfounded Harry and unsatisfied Tom.

"Really? Do you really need advice?" Hermione asks as they climb the staircase.

Druella locks their arms and laughs obnoxiously, her wild hair cracking with mischievous magic, only making Hermione fear for what was to come. "Don't be silly, you pretty little thing."

"Excuse me?"

"We're going to talk about the sexual tension currently _crackling_ between you and the Headboy."

Hermione could only groan, too exhausted to argue.

* * *

**How did my lovely readers like this chapter? It was extremely fun to write. I love writing playful/flirty!Tom. I'm finding it so hard to write him as a complete psychopath. My God. Feedback is appreciated! Cheers xo**


	10. in which there is happiness

**Background Music: **Talk by Kodaline

**Act X  
**

* * *

October 18th, 1944

**TOM**

* * *

There was no more prolonging this confession; she was beautiful.

Hermione Guerra was annoyingly, heart-achingly beautiful. Tom wasn't aware he even _had_ a heart before this singular moment. He was always under the impression that emotions were useless and distracting but then _this_ witch came along and threw his world upside down.

He wanted to see her writhing beneath him, to see her smile at him the way she was smiling at Avery and to have her challenge him the way he challenged Lestrange with _such_ passion and righteousness it made his head spin. He was possessive – always had been. But the Guerra girl made him want to torture his followers just by the mere _thought_ of them being able to be in her presence while she looked so joyous and _full of life_.

She was a distraction. A wonderful, brilliant distraction.

She was forbidden.

(But what was that saying? Ah, _yes_ – the forbidden fruit always tasted the sweetest.)

Her twin and Avery flanked her sides like the loyal hounds they were; protecting her from harm which Tom was _positive_ had only began. It had been almost three weeks since her attack but Tom felt as if it had only happened the day before. He was still furious. Still murderous.

But why? The back of his mind screamed the answer – _she was his_ to torment. Not anyone else's. His.

_His_.

She was fascinating.

Lestrange, Nott and the young Dolohov (who had taken to acting like his personal lap dog) were ordered away and they were currently trying to flirt up a storm with the seventh year Ravenclaw ladies who dismissed Dolohov because of his age before he even approached them.

It was laughable, really because the only time Dolohov showed an interest in _anything_, he was rejected before he even tried.

Tom smiled a very private smile as his eyes shifted back to Hermione who was laughing at something Avery told her. Her glorious hair was thrown back – all of her messy curls and all – and she was looking so positively _happy_ that it made Tom's heart ache.

How he longed to touch her face again. Of course, at the time he had wanted to kick himself for succumbing to his urges and touching her soft skin right before she was lulled to sleep but he was _beyond_ the point of no return.

Tom wanted Hermione to be _his_ to touch. _His_ to frustrate. _His_ to entertain.

If Avery wasn't currently betrothed and didn't only view Hermione as a friend, he would currently be walking without arms.

Tom ran an elegant finger down a spine of his latest discovery. A book about the heirlooms of the founders of Hogwarts. He was always interested in the history of his beloved school and would gladly cut of his own wand hand off for a chance to view the priceless heirlooms (well, that was an overstatement – he would cut off whoever's hand who possessed these items) and to become the owner of those objects.

However, he became easily annoyed and frustrated when the locations of the objects wasn't revealed and neither were the names of the owners who _possessed _the items.

He wasn't surprised, of course. If they were his, he wouldn't exactly be advertising it to the public either. With frustration etched ont his face, he shoved the book back on the shelf and exited the small bookstore, his feet already carrying him to the witch and her lackeys.

"You look very happy today, Hermione. Has the latest issue of _Witch Weekly _been released? I heard there was a very useful hair charm in the beauty section. Perhaps it could help tame your unruly hair although I _highly_ doubt it." He spoke with disdain and the conversation between the three stopped as Avery looked shocked along with Harry and Hermione looked on in disbelief.

"Got up on the wrong side of the bed again, Riddle?"

"This is about the millionth time I am reminding you to call me by my Christian name."

"You don't strike me as a Christian, _Riddle_," She spat, crossing her arms as her two friends stepped back; a good habit of theirs. "I think I will call you this a million times more if I like."

He grimaced in a fake manner, rolling his eyes. "You wound me, love."

"Only wound you? I was wishing for something much more fatal."

He barked a laugh. "You're a funny witch – but only sometimes. I highly recommend you do something with that hair of yours. It looks as if you've freshly taken a roll between the sheets with some unfortunate man."

Hermione stepped forward. "And what's it to you? Any man would be _fortunate_ enough to share a bed with me."

He didn't have an answer to that and so he only looked her up and down with disdain and a disgusted smirk on his lips before he turned around and walked away from the trio.

Fuck; she was beautiful. He hoped she wouldn't charm her hair. He hoped he could be the man to be sharing a bed with her.

Damn Hermione Guerra.

* * *

Instead of writing about his recent findings about the heirlooms that evening, Tom's hand furiously wrote words relating to one brilliant witch and the annoying skip his heart would do in her presence.

_If I was to define happiness, I would say its name was Hermione._

_ I can imagine what she will look like when it begins to snow. Little snowflakes will fall over her birds nest of a hair and over her delicate freckles and curly eyelashes and then – even __**then**__she will look a million times more beautiful than the witches in Playwizard. _

_ Well – it was a bit uncanny to compare her to the whores in that magazine but with small hands and innocent smile and mischievous yet knowledgeable eyes, she could rival even the most beautiful of witches on this planet._

_ She was happiness. She was pure – __**unadulterated**__ happiness._

_ I wish I could taste that happiness on my tongue. I wish I could feel her sigh into my mouth and have her beg me to –_

_ Hermione Guerra was happiness and for a flicker of a second today in Hogsmeade, I could feel that happiness. _

_ It felt like my heart was going to jump out of my throat. I felt like I was going to __**die**__._

_ I craved to feel that again._

Tom slammed his diary shut with shaky fingers as he attempted to regain his control. Alas, it was futile. Hermione Guerra was in his veins and it didn't feel like she was leaving any time soon.

* * *

**HERMIONE**

* * *

"Enough about Druella – have you found anything about the Deatheaters?"

Harry remained silent for a few seconds, his dark eyebrows furrowing as he shook his head. "No, I haven't," He states and looks around to see if they were alone. "I've been trying to get Sebastian to say something – _anything_ but no. I haven't heard a peep out of anyone which is strange, don't you think?"

Hermione nodded, agreeing. "Yes. You would think Riddle would propose the idea of you joining the group. They've been overly welcome."

They stayed silent, seeing the flames flicker in the fireplace. It was around 2 a.m and they were currently seated on the plush sofa of the Slytherin common room. Hermione couldn't believe how at home she felt in the dark room.

"What about time travel? Have you spoken to Dumbledore?" She asks, running her hand through her hair absentmindedly as her mind reverted back to what Riddle said earlier that day. Prat.

"I did but after what happened – after what he _did_ to us, I don't exactly trust him. I don't think he trusts us either. He seems very sketchy lately."

"Maybe he was always sketchy and we just didn't realize."

"Maybe." Harry whispered, his voice shaky and uncomfortable.

Hermione was uncomfortable too. She didn't _want_ to believe that their leader was _this_ manipulative. She understood that they were expected to sacrifice in order to achieve peace and end the war but the line between evil and good was vastly becoming blurry thanks to Dumbledore's scheming and Riddle's angelic face.

But the Devil was beautiful too, wasn't he?

"There's something else, Hermione."

"Yes?"

Harry seemed as if he had thought about this long and hard, and judging by the final-like look on his face, he had. "I think we should start thinking about the future. Not _the_ future, but ours."

Hermione nodded because she knew this conversation was coming. There had been no news about travelling forward in time – especially not _half a century_ forward in time. As far as they knew, it was be impossible. And even if it was possible, it would be extremely dangerous.

"We need to set precautions in case we have no choice but to stay here."

"And _that_ is exactly why you should be thinking about NEWT's and not about what is under Druella's skirt, Harry." She said in a teasing tone, trying in vain to lighten the situation.

"I _know_ what is under her skirt, thanks."

Hermione pretended to gag but then giggled.

"We need to act more like ourselves, Hermione. We need to be ourselves before we truly begin to live lives as liars."

Hermione nodded.

Except, she had perhaps been living _too much_ like Hermione Granger by the way Sebastian had warmed up to her and the way Riddle was so very interested in her cleverness and her wit.

* * *

**God, how I adore writing this story! :D I hope you liked this chapter. It was more of a filler chapter but I made sure to include some Tomione banter and Tom's obsession with his Horcruxes to keep the story on track. Tomione will have a super heated scene next chapter so be sure to review! ;) Cheers, lovelies. x**


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